


for there is danger in our pining (and we are safer where we are)

by dandelionlighters



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, wolf curse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22784896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionlighters/pseuds/dandelionlighters
Summary: “Hope...” Josie sucks in a harsh breath, her eyes glancing nervously between Hope’s own and the large gash across her stomach. “Why aren’t you healing?”The tribrid runs a hand over her abdomen, blood immediately soaking her fingers. She swallows thickly and can’t quite meet Josie’s gaze.“I—“ She doesn’t know what to say. “I need you to get away from me. Now.”—Being a wolf has always seemed great to Hope Mikealson. On her fifteenth birthday, she learns that there’s a consequence of such power: crescent werewolves have mates, and in close proximity of that mate, their supernatural abilities completely disappear.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 84
Kudos: 714





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> “Let’s not look for silver linings,  
> or send our wishes to the stars.  
> For there is danger in our pining,  
> and we are safer where we are.” 
> 
> —Lang Leav

Long ago, during a time of war and violence, a group of witches gathered together to place a curse on a rival clan that had, time and time again, terrorized their people. However, these witches did not have any magic of their own, and instead siphoned it from the supernatural around them. They consumed energy from spare grimoires and trees, oftentimes even grasping bits from the ground beneath their feet. 

When they finally possessed enough magic to execute their punishment, they chose to invoke this power on the Crescent wolf pack by forcing each member to bear a mate. 

A mate would not only require one’s full attention, but give the wolves a severe disadvantage as well. The witches believed that the weakness of love would lead to the pack’s extinction. When this concept proved to be wrong, the group of witches gathered again. 

This time, they made it so that the werewolves’ supernatural powers would perish in close proximity to their mates. These beasts of the night would no longer be able to heal adequately; they would no longer be able to utilize their strength and abilities sufficiently. 

The second curse spoke true, and soon enough, the pack members slowly began to die out. The witches could not believe their own genius, and celebrated their great triumph with large, extravagant parties and festivals. 

However, these intelligent witches were also prideful, and could not keep their accomplishments quiet. News of the curse spread to surviving members of the Crescent clan, and they quickly fled the area. 

Although they still remained cursed, they could now endure the suffering in a region where none could exploit it.

Over time, the chances of finding a true mate grew increasingly more slim, and the curse slowly became a myth within the pack. Yet, the clan’s elders knew that they could not allow the curse to become mere fiction, or else the Crescent wolves would suffer greatly for their ignorance. Instead, they vowed to tell the truth again and again, until their throats grew hoarse from speaking it. 

The story of the Crescent-wolf curse is not written in any book or on any paper. Instead, it’s passed down to every generation through whispers and promises to never utter it again. It’s a secret kept between sealed lips and meaningful glances, a hidden vow to protect the clan. 

Most importantly, it’s a burden Hope Mikaelson—the last member of her pack—carries alone. 


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of sweat and body odor collects stagnantly in the gym, so thick and extreme Hope Mikaelson swears she can almost see it. She distantly wrinkles her nose, adjusting her PE sweats where they gather at her hips. 

It’s fifth period gym, a mandatory class forced on vampires and werewolves as an excuse to brawl with each other and learn from it. The class is essentially a fight club, except for the small fact that there’s no coach or teacher supervising and the students are left on their own for an entire hour to solve any built-up emotions and aggression. 

Hope stands in the back with her only friend in this whole goddamn boarding school—Penelope Park. The girl’s a relatively new werewolf, and just like Hope, she was introduced to the school around a year ago. The pair had bonded during their initial tour, and now they’re practically inseparable. 

Now, they stand together, playing around with their bo staffs, hitting each other in good humor but not really fighting or practicing anything. They do this every week on repeat, using the hour allotted to discuss inconsequential things instead of doing something of importance. 

“Saltzman twins just walked in, two o’clock,” Penelope whispers suddenly, just low enough that only Hope can hear it. Hope glances at the entrance to the gym, and her heart skyrockets when she catches a glimpse of Josie Saltzman. 

Josie Saltzman, her mate. 

Josie Saltzman, her mate, who barely knows she exists. 

Josie Saltzman, her mate, who barely knows she exists, and whose sister hates Hope. 

The bo staff clatters to the floor, and Hope hurriedly picks it up. 

“Shit,” the tribrid curses, already beginning to feel her powers slipping away from her. The smell of body odor she had noticed so obviously earlier is gone, and she can no longer hear the conversation between an arguing couple she had been eavesdropping on across the room. “ _Shit_! How do I look?” 

That’s another thing. Penelope Park is the only person Hope had ever told about the Crescent-pack curse—and Josie Saltzman. One day it had just slipped out, and Hope had never been able to take it back. 

The two had fought for some time over it—since Penelope also harbored feelings for the other girl at the time—but Hope had gotten over it when she realized Penelope hadn’t told anyone about her secret the entire time they’d been fighting. She knew then that Penelope was someone she could trust. 

“Like crap,” Penelope tells her, and Hope resists the deep urge to strangle her. It’s not like she could right now, anyways. Penelope catches the glare her friend is pinning her with and huffs. “I’m joking, _damn_.” 

Hope dignifies the response with a roll of her eyes, discreetly looking back to where she had last seen Josie, who is now talking to a group of werewolves that are all leering at her with unrestrained lust. 

She takes one second to admire the way Josie’s hair falls down passed her shoulders in waves, takes another to adore the way she smiles, and then takes the last second to seethe with barely-concealed jealousy and irritation. 

The only sign that anything’s wrong at all is the way her fists twitch at her sides, fingers wrapping harshly around the wood of her bo staff. She hasn’t even realized that she’s stopped moving until Penelope elbows her in the side. 

“Let’s just get out of here before they start playing dodgeball,” the girl says, “remember what happened last time?” 

Hope wishes she didn’t remember. She can still vividly recount the day when the werewolves had decided to play dodgeball. Josie had taken that exact instance to stroll into the gym with one of her witch friends. As a result, Hope was sent to the nurse’s office with a bloody nose and a concussion after a well-aimed hit to the face. 

Hope shakes her head from the embarrassing memory, glancing forlornly one last time at Josie before making for the exit. 

She doesn’t quite get there. 

Someone shoves her roughly in the back and she lurches forward before catching herself. If she had her powers right now, she wouldn’t have even moved a single inch. But she doesn’t, and now she can barely catch her breath right. She turns around very slowly, the room turning to stone as everyone quiets. 

“Ditching _already_ , Mikaelson?” It’s Levi Wilson, a vampire that has been unsuccessfully trying to torment her ever since she got here. His cronies begin to  form a circle around the both of them, and Hope sighs in her head. 

“I _know_ you didn’t just fucking push me,” she tells him instead of answering. His eyes sparkle with something akin to delight. 

“I did, actually,” he says, closer than before. His hands shoot out like lightning and tug her shoulders again, and she holds out against the impulse to stumble back knowing that the entire gym is now watching their exchange—including Josie. “And that’s for my father.” 

Hope doesn’t immediately retaliate, her eyes flashing yellow but not much else thanks to her _predicament_. Levi has never been able to get over his dad’s death, and he brings it up literally every single time he sees the tribrid. It’s not really Hope’s fault, but she’s blamed for everything her father has ever done anyways. 

“I didn’t kill your father, Wilson,” she bites out. 

“No, but yours did,” he says, and he reaches out to seemingly push her again. She barely dodges him, already feeling exhausted. But she won’t show it. “One day you’ll pay for that.” 

“Hmm. It’s really a shame he didn’t kill you, too,” she drawls instead of deescalating the situation, carefully placing a smirk against her lips. Levi’s own mocking smile drops and his eyes glow with anger. 

Penelope laughs sharply next to her. 

“Care to put your bo staff where your mouth is?” Levi asks, the empty vein in his neck practically bulging. 

She briefly looks at the stick in her hand, forgetting she had been carrying it this entire time. A weird feeling settles at the nape of her neck, and she snaps her eyes up to accidentally meet Josie’s own in the crowd around them. 

Had she been watching her all this time? The thought causes the acid in Hope’s stomach to jump up into her throat, burning her tongue. When had it gotten so hard to breathe? 

All the same, Hope allows herself the brief moment of eye-contact. 

She watches as the siphoner shakes her head almost imperceptibly—as if to say, _don’t_ —and then Hope loses sight of her as the circle shifts once again. She gulps and furrows her eyebrows, unable to ignore the sudden burst of emotion flaring up within her. Her jaw clenches as she tries to control the urge to look once again for the other girl, focusing on the task at hand.

The next thing she knows, someone’s tossing Levi a bo staff and they’re each standing apart in their own defensive fighting postures. 

Hope grips her staff tightly but loosely at the same time, immediately looking for any weakness she can find in Levi. She needs all the help she can get, especially since she won’t be able to use any super strength or magic. 

He comes running at her a second later, and she side-steps him before waving her staff to collide against the back of his knee roughly. 

He falters for just a moment before using a burst of super speed to face her once again. In a quick, long motion, he brings his staff down across her body, and she side-steps that as well. 

Levi backs up a step and Hope takes the opportunity to deliver a series of jabs and blows to his chest. Some hit their mark, others not. She reminds herself to breathe, but not so loudly. The room is still dead silent, the crowd intent on watching the fight and not interrupting with something as insignificant as talking. If Hope breathes too ruggedly, someone might think that she’s tired. 

And a Mikaelson never gets tired. 

With renewed energy, Hope kicks high above Levi’s head. As predicted, he unnecessarily ducks and she uses her other leg to quickly hit him in the stomach before her feet can hit the ground. 

That only serves to infuriate him more and he does such an elaborate spin-move with his own staff that she finds herself on the defensive. She manages to parry most of his attacks, but the last one manages to break her own weapon into wooden splinters. The splinters dig into her palms, immediately drawing blood. 

She barely falters despite the small gasps she can hear coming from the circle around them, throwing the broken staff on the floor behind her. She won’t need it anymore, since it’s completely useless to her in pieces. Instead, she raises her fists up, and Levi raises a lone eyebrow before running at her again. 

He jabs at her stomach, and she jumps back quickly. He’s too slow to retrieve his staff and she grips it as hard as she can, pulling. He leans over with the force of it and the staff falls away from his grasp. She tosses it behind her instead of taking it, because she actually has honor. 

Levi growls and begins to sprint right towards her. She braces herself for the inevitable impact, but at the last second he jumps over her head. She swiftly turns around to face him, only to be hit squarely in the side of her mouth by a large fist. 

She cries out in surprise, the sound getting swallowed up by the room, and she automatically holds her hand up to her face protectively. The skin there stings, and when tears well up in her eyes she fights them back down. 

Blood pools in her mouth and she swallows it, because spitting it out would probably disgust Josie if she’s still watching. The metallic taste of crimson only serves to make her more nauseous and she staggers back some. Levi gives her the room to, which she doesn’t really understand. Either he’s stupid or maybe—just maybe—he has honor, too. 

Hope looks at him curiously, but he only grins at her, pulling his fist back once again. In a moment of luck, Hope finally finds his weakness. 

She slides across the floor and sweeps under his arm, pulling it behind his back. She then takes the time to wipe the blood dripping from her mouth with her other hand. 

Adrenaline pumps so heavily throughout her veins that she can barely feel the pain. Her jaw is almost numb, and when she smears her fingers across it, she feels nothing at all. It’s odd, but she chooses not to address it right away. 

Now that she’s behind Levi, she kicks his knees in once again, and surprisingly he bows down. She twists his arm further up his back with one hand, squeezing his shoulder roughly with her other. She doesn’t have her super strength right now, but if she can fake it enough, Levi might just forfeit. 

She twists farther, and the vampire groans underneath her. She leans down slowly, her voice harsh into his ear. 

“Yield.” 

“Fine,” he spits out, and she loosens her grip. He shakes her off of him, and she clamps down on the urge to laugh in his face. “I yield.” 

Hope, being the nice person she is, holds a hand out to help him get up. He ignores it, standing on his own before grumbling and walking away. 

She notices that most of the room has scattered by now—uninterested in Hope Mikaelson _not_ getting her ass kicked—and she catches Penelope standing off to the side with her arms crossed. Hope ignores the pissed-off expression on her face, searching once more for Josie. 

She doesn’t find her, and a peculiar sort of ache eases gently into her chest. It gathers thickly around her heart, moving almost in a tender manner, before squeezing all at once with a sick, miserable revelation— 

The reason she couldn’t feel the pain anymore was never due to adrenaline at all. 

Instead, Josie had left sometime during the fight, and Hope—for all her worth—could not tell if that hurt more or less than when Levi first punched her in the face.

Hope wonders if she had ever seen the other girl looking back at her in the crowd at all, or if—she swallows thickly—she had only imagined her.


	3. Chapter 3

“Can you stop doing that?” 

Hope’s fingers had spent the past five minutes drumming away against the black wood of the table, her foot tapping impatiently underneath it as she waited for the teacher to begin class. Penelope Park had had _enough_. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hope hisses out sarcastically, annoyed at the previous day’s events—she can still feel the phantom taste of blood in her mouth—and deciding to take it out on her friend. “Am I bothering you?” 

Penelope makes some equally sarcastic reply but Hope does not hear her. Instead, her focus is trained on the brunette that had just walked into the room a second before the late bell. This is one of the few classes she doesn’t share with her sister. 

“Okay, everyone,” the teacher—Mr. Halkidis—nearly bellows. No one pays him any attention. “Settle down, please!” 

The class gradually quiets, and the sound of Penelope laughing at the man slips away in the slight breeze of the room. 

“As you all know well,” he continues, wandering in front of his desk slowly, as if he’s finally gotten himself together. “In the past few weeks, we have been developing analytical and philosophical skills that are vital to your understanding of the supernatural world. I understand many of you know where this class’ notoriety lies: in its research projects. As previously discussed over the last couple of days, we are beginning our first semester project.” 

Hope has to clamp down a snicker as Penelope groans loudly and dramatically. 

“Seeing as this is our first of the year, I am allowing you all to choose your own topics—as long as they somehow concern the supernatural,” he explains, adjusting his glasses. “You will be working in partners.”

Hope bites back her own groan. Mr. Halkidis is well-known for not allowing his students to choose their own partners. 

“However, I am feeling rather... _charitable_...this morning. You may pick your own pairs, but please be smart about it. Do not choose your friends over your grades. This project will count for twenty percent of your final semester mark.” Hope deflates internally. “You may now get with your partners.” 

Mr. Halkidis sits back down in his office chair, and the class erupts in noise as students scramble for their closest friends. 

Hope leans back almost disinterestedly in her chair, already knowing that her and Penelope will be partners. They sit in silence for a short moment before Hope breaks it. 

“Do you think—“ she starts, planning on discussing their project when Penelope rudely cuts her off. 

“Shut up,” she says, staring over where Josie and her friends are talking. Hope looks over and back. 

“What—“

“Shut up!” she whisper-yells, her fingers twitching like she wants to reach over and shut Hope’s mouth herself. The wolf leans in, tugging her hair behind her ears like she’s trying to hear something. “I just heard your name. I think Josie’s friends are talking about you.” 

Hope swallows thickly, her face disbelieving. She trips over her words.

“What are they saying?” she manages, just to be hushed again. Penelope barely glances over at her, her head tilted to the side as she continues to try to listen in. Hope doesn’t even care that they’re being nosy. 

If Josie was further away, Hope would probably be able to hear the conversation herself. But Josie is only a couple of feet apart from her, and Hope feels her there just underneath her skin. 

“They’re...teasing...her about Josie’s...” Penelope’s eyebrows furrow. “French-kink?” 

She says it loudly enough that the two girls in front of their table look over at them with scrunched-up faces, and Hope and Penelope stay quiet for a long second until the girls look away.

“What?” Hope nearly screams the moment they do. Her face flushes in the way that makes Penelope grin. “What does that have to do with _me_?” 

“You speak French, don’t you?”

Hope nods, ignoring Penelope’s smirk. Of _course_ she does, being raised in New Orleans and all with a father like Niklaus Mikaelson. 

“Hmm,” Penelope hums, still listening in. Hope almost becomes desperate. 

“What are they saying now?” she asks, but Penelope doesn’t bother to even look at her. 

“I can’t tell...” Penelope trails off. 

Her head clouding with something she won’t even try to label, Hope snaps her head over at Josie in confusion. 

She finds that the siphoner and her entire witch-friend group is looking in her direction, Josie at the forefront with her hands wringing restlessly together. Some of her friends are pushing her in Hope’s direction, giggling loudly like the school girls they are. Hope raises a lone eyebrow at them and looks away. 

“That’s weird, right?” she asks Penelope, who also looks wholly weirded-out. 

“Yeah,” she murmurs, before she glances down quickly. “Don’t look now, H, but she’s coming over here.” 

“What do you mean she’s coming over here?” Hope stumbles out her words in a rush at the wolf’s vagueness, only to feel a tap on her shoulder. She turns around slowly, her eyes instantly coming across everything that is Josie Saltzman. 

She had not been close enough to notice before, but the siphoner’s lips are glossed over deliciously and she smells absolutely amazing. Hope doesn’t need supernatural abilities to see that. 

“Hi, Hope.” Josie positively beams, and Hope tries her hardest not to let her own lips split in a grin. She feels her heart thud dangerously in her chest. Had her name always sounded so sweet in Josie’s mouth? 

“Uh, hey,” Hope says, her voice coming out slightly husky. She clears her throat lowly, unable to look away from Josie’s eyes and the way her hair curls perfectly around her face. 

“Hi,” Josie repeats, before realizing herself. “Oh, I already said that.” She laughs somewhat nervously, which makes Hope burn and freeze all at once. The siphoner’s eyes fleet around the room before she seems to gather herself. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to, maybe, be partners for this project, or something?” she asks, and if Hope chokes on a scream it doesn’t make its way passed her lips. She’s suddenly overcome with excitement and what something like this could mean, but deep down she’s filled with nauseating dread. 

This is Theoretical and Ethical Arts class after all—an elective research period for magic and all things supernatural—and Hope has barely been able to perform any magic so far this semester. Combined with Penelope being her partner, her grades have seriously suffered. However, no one has noticed anything out of the ordinary yet, and Hope knows that if she partners with Josie for this project that the girl will find out something’s wrong. 

How can she even try to pretend that she has magic or that she even has some semblance to a tribrid at all when Josie will be working right next to her? 

And, anyways, she needs Josie to be far away from her. They can’t ever get close. The girl could hurt Hope, or worse, Hope can’t protect Josie when they’re near each other. It’s best for the both of them to stay away from one another. 

“Well, actually,” Hope starts on an excuse, her stomach dropping at Josie’s crestfallen look. “Penelope and I—“ 

She suddenly becomes aware of the fact that Penelope is nowhere near her. 

Hope looks around, recognizing Penelope across the room flirting with some blonde, and she realizes that—in all of a minute—her friend has abandoned her. She turns back to look at Josie, who is so, so hopeful for a reason she can’t comprehend. 

_ Penelope and I nothing.  _

“Sure,” she says at last, because she can’t exactly lie to her face. She knows this is going to end disastrously already. Josie smiles shyly, her cheeks almost pink, and Hope barely misses the thumbs-up Josie’s friends are signaling to the siphoner as she pulls out Penelope’s chair. 

Josie sits down with a quiet thanks, and Mr. Halkidis takes the time to speak up again. 

“Get with your partners quickly now, please!” 

Most of the students who had remained standing find their own seats, and the room drifts to silence once again. 

“Thank you,” he says pointedly, addressing the polite courtesy of no one talking while he’s trying to speak. He goes on to discuss the major components of the project, various important due dates, and the rules of what they can and can’t study. He finishes with the mention of a mandatory experiment or demonstration to prove the research correct. 

The entire time Hope can’t concentrate on a word he’s saying, too aware of Josie directly next to her, maybe closer than they’ve ever been before. The girl doesn’t fidget much, but when she even moves an inch Hope’s senses are too attuned to it, and she finds herself entirely too distracted. 

“Alright, I’ll give you the rest of the period to start thinking of topic ideas,” Mr. Halkidis concludes after talking for most of the class time. 

Hope had been prepared to sit in awkward silence but Josie starts speaking relatively quickly. 

“Okay, so this kind of has nothing to do with the project,” she starts, and Hope just stares as her mouth moves to form words and syllables. She feels like she’s kind of in a dream, but even her dreams have never been this good. Her and Josie haven’t really ever interacted much before, and for Josie to ask Hope to be her partner has to mean something...right? “But I was talking to my dad about the football team, and Lizzie and I convinced him to let us play seriously this season. We don’t have to forfeit games or pretend that we suck.” 

“Obviously, we still can’t use magic or anything, but he’s letting us play for real.” She chews on her lip thoughtfully or nervously, Hope can’t tell, but she traces the motion anyways. Then she snaps out of it. What does football have to do with her? “We have a good chance at winning, but we need people that know how to play. That brings me to you, actually. Do you think you’d want to...?”

Hope hears the rest of the question like she’s underwater. 

She had been so caught up in the illusion of Josie wanting to partner with her that she had forgotten about reality. And the truth was cold and hard, biting into her skin just enough that she could feel it but not shiver. 

Had Josie done all this just to get her on the team? 

“You wanted to be my partner to recruit me?” Hope says it with a soft smirk on her face, belying the hurt and disbelief pooling like cement in her chest. She tries to breathe as she waits for Josie’s answer, but her lungs suddenly feel much too heavy. Why had she ever hoped that the siphoner would like her back in the first place? 

“Not exactly, I—“ Josie tries, a blush painted gently across her cheeks, before she’s interrupted by Mr. Halkidis. 

“The bell will be ringing shortly. You should turn in your topic ideas by the end of the week. Have a good day.” 

As if to emphasize his point, the bell rings loudly. Hope finds herself reveling in the fact that the noise is no longer excruciating to her ears with the close proximity to Josie. 

“Just think about it, okay?” Josie says, packing up all of her stuff. Hope blankly looks at her, trying hard not to let any emotion leak into her face. Can Josie see the disappointment knitted in between her eyebrows? Can she detect the smoke burning in her eyes? Can she feel the warmth of Hope’s boiling skin? “First practice is tomorrow after school.” 

Hope frowns as she watches Josie’s back get further and further away. 

Minutes later, she feels her supernatural abilities return to her. Strength makes itself known in the crack of her knuckles, energy crackles in her ear, her skin vibrates with intense magic. 

Somehow, she still feels weak and completely powerless. 


	4. Chapter 4

_ Josie Saltzman gasps a muted and wanton moan into the steam of the shower, arching her back into the soft press of fingers along her naked spine. Lips mouth against her ear, dragging teeth across the lobe.  _

_ “Si belle, mon amour.”  _

_ Her eyelids flutter something heavy, her abdomen clenching and twisting low at the words. She can’t understand them, but her mouth falls open with another shameless sound as lips move down her neck and hands move around her sides and up her breasts.  _

_ “Tu me rends folle, tu le sais ça?” A tongue curls around her throat, fingers skim along her nipples—feather light, always so feather light—lips suck a mark that Josie knows will be purple by tomorrow. She nods at the uptilt of her lover’s voice, a question she can’t entirely comprehend right. She finds she doesn’t care.  _

_ A low chuckle vibrates against her neck, shooting thrills straight to her center. Her hips rock forward on their own, meeting air and water instead of the aching fingers she desires. A needy whine rumbles in her chest, a playful growl answers her in return.  _

_ It’s so foggy that Josie can’t see three feet in front of her, but she knows exactly who the person behind her is. If only they would just stop fucking teasing her... _

_ “Please,” the siphoner murmurs, sighing into the steam. No one has ever touched her so thoroughly before, no one has ever taken this much time with her. She needs relief. She needs more. She needs— “ _ Hope _.” _

Josie shoots up out of the covers of her bed, her fingers tangled with a white-knuckled grip between messy sheets. Her face scorches red in remembrance of just moments before, her pupils blown with lust and pent-up urges. 

She runs a shaky hand through damp hair, her entire body prickling with phantom touches. Flashes of full lips and blue eyes wander into her vision, only second to strong hands and wet steam built up from a long, hot shower. 

This past month, she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Hope Mikaelson. Well, it’s been more than a month, but her brain doesn’t particularly like admitting something so embarrassing, especially when her feelings are futile and unrequited. Hope will _never_ like her back, not in any world or alternate universe. 

In the privacy of her own mind, she can admit that, at least. 

Josie sits up, her eyes still closed with all-too intrusive images. She does her best to pretend that her panties aren’t sticking to her in all the right places. God, she needs a shower.

Or not. 

“Ew,” a body next to her groans, and Josie stammers out a noise of surprise. “You seriously had _another_ sex dream? Wow. Three nights in a row. That’s a new record for you.” 

“Lizzie, no,” Josie tries, attempting to hide the blush rushing up her neck and to her cheeks. She fails miserably. 

“Who was it this time?” The blonde stretches, unimpressed. She rises from Josie’s bed with a nose wrinkled in distaste. “Edward or Jacob?” 

Ugh. Lizzie really needs to stop calling Hope and Penelope that. 

“Neither,” Josie lies, a confession hanging heavy on her tongue. It would be so easy...

“Please.” Her sister rolls her eyes. “You’re sweating and panting like a dog in heat.” 

Josie scrunches up her own nose at the words. The blonde only continues, “Hey, maybe you should join Jed’s pack for a run during the next full moon. You never know, keep this up and you might find yourself howling at the moon and worshipping celestial bodies.” 

Josie makes a noise of disagreement, deciding to ignore all of that for now. She thinks that her sister really needs to stop making dog jokes all the time. She also thinks that she needs to convince her that she wasn’t having a sex dream. “I was having a nightmare,” she explains. 

“And I’m having a baby,” Lizzie drawls sarcastically, heading over to the bathroom. Josie shakes her head with silent laughter, distantly hearing the sink run as the lights switch on. “What time is it?” 

The brunette glances at her phone by her bedside table. She calls out, “Almost eight. We’re late for breakfast.” 

She only gets a deep sigh in return and the two of them begin to get ready for their respective classes, each dreading the day ahead of them for different reasons. 

—

Josie stands with her friends in the lunch line, glancing over her shoulder for what must be the hundredth time to a table in the far back of the dining hall, where Hope Mikaelson and Penelope Park sit talking about one thing or another. 

The brunette simply can’t help herself, and she bites her bottom lip absentmindedly as she thinks about what happened earlier in class with the other girl. She can’t believe she had found the confidence to ask Hope to be her partner, but of course she ended up ruining everything after mentioning the football team. 

Josie looks over again just as Hope’s gaze flits up and towards her. The siphoner jumps in surprise, swiftly snapping her head back around and accidentally dropping the plastic tray she’s been carrying. It begins a quick descent to the floor, only saved in a single flash of supernatural speed. 

She smiles sheepishly as her friend Claire Miller raises her eyebrows in amusement. She hands the fallen tray back over with a small smirk. 

“Just go talk to her,” Claire whispers, piling two blood bags onto her own tray. She tilts her head in Hope’s direction, gesturing offhandedly with the blood bag in her hand as she rips into it with careful fangs. Josie frowns a bit at the corner of her lips. 

“What would I even say?” she asks, eyeing her salad that suddenly looks far too unappetizing. Claire has the decency to swallow the blood in her mouth before answering. 

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” she teases, swiping her tongue along her teeth, “wanna rub our baguettes together in my shower later? Oui, oui!” 

Josie knocks her shoulder with the other girl’s, rolling her eyes. She smiles despite herself. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about my dream. You and Marley have been bothering me about it all day.” 

It’s true. Claire and her other friend, Marley, haven’t been able to stop talking about it. Marley even went as far as to start a conversation about the dream in class, directly in front and within earshot of Hope. God. That had been so humiliating. Josie cringes just thinking about it. 

Claire opens her mouth to deliver what Josie thinks might be a clever retort, before her eyes widen slightly. She then pushes Josie towards Hope’s table without preamble. “Look, her friend just left. Here’s your chance!” 

The brunette chokes on air as Claire all but abandons her, speedily walking off and sitting down at their usual table with Lizzie and the rest of their friends. Josie keeps her head ducked down as she tries to walk past Hope’s table, but it’s too late. The auburn-haired girl has already seen her. 

Hope nods in acknowledgement, her eyes trained on Josie so intensely that it gives her pause. The siphoner’s heart flutters to attention in her chest, and she nearly trips between footsteps before making a decision. 

“Hi,” she approaches Hope’s table hesitantly, her voice shy. The other girl sits up with rigid shoulders, something flashing in her eyes so quickly that Josie misses it completely. “Can I sit?” 

Hope only nods with that same stiff posture and firm set to her spine. Josie resists the urge to swallow against the nervous lump in her throat, knowing that any desperate attempt to gulp it down will still be in vain. 

“I just wanted...” Josie searches for something to talk about. There has to be _something_ , right? _Anything_? “...To see if you thought about what I asked earlier.” 

By the look on Hope’s face, the brunette can tell that she chose the wrong topic. The tribrid’s expression doesn’t waver, not really. Her eyes stay blank, her eyebrows stay impassive, her lips stay pursed and indifferent. Yet, her jaw clenches just enough for Josie to catch it. 

“Ah,” she murmurs, her eyes sweeping somewhere past Josie’s right shoulder. A little unsure, the siphoner glances back to see Penelope Park staring at both of them. 

“Not exactly,” Hope admits after a beat, but she doesn’t meet her eyes. Josie awkwardly hugs herself with two hands running up and down her elbows, the plate of food in front of her forgotten. She wonders if she should leave—if she’s overstayed her welcome. Why does she feel so damn disappointed? 

“Oh,” she breathes, a mess of an exhale. She stands up on wobbly legs. “I understand.” 

“Wait.” Hope seems to stand up with her, so quickly that Josie has to do a double-take to make sure her eyes are working correctly. The tribrid’s hand then shoots out to stop Josie from leaving—just a simple touch along the side of her body, like a mere reflex or accident. 

Unfortunately, Josie jumps about a foot in the air as her dream from the morning bursts to the forefront of her mind, those same wandering, feather-light fingers there but no longer wandering. Hope immediately recoils as if burned, and the siphoner pinks with embarrassment. If her pupils dilate to a humiliating extent, the tribrid doesn’t mention it. 

“Sorry,” they both apologize, at the same time, Hope’s voice suddenly low and rough in the way that makes Josie’s stomach flutter like butterflies with razor-blade wings. 

“No.” The tribrid shakes her head, so earnest and regretful that Josie hums thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t have...” 

_ Shouldn’t have...?  _

“Nevermind,” she dismisses, quickly, her eyes flickering everywhere but nowhere, seeing but unseeing. “I-I’ll do it.” 

Josie blinks, having lost their train of conversation. God. She’s such an airhead. Hope probably thinks she’s stupid or something. “You’ll...?” 

“I mean, I’ll join the team, or whatever,” Hope adds, with no small hint of uncertainty. Josie lights up in response, a beam breaking her face into half. She smiles so hard it hurts, only just resisting the urge to tackle the other girl into a hug. 

“Can I bring someone with me, though?” Hope tacks on not a second later, as if thinking better of her decision. Her gaze strays away again, and Josie doesn’t have to think much to know that she’s probably looking at Penelope once more.

Like she has been their entire conversation. 

For some reason, at that, the siphoner grows irrationally jealous, a thought that had been on her mind for a while now suddenly all-consuming and unavoidable. 

“Are you and Penelope dating?” she blurts out, her words coming so fast that they run into each other. 

There’s a moment, there, where the two stare at each other, where silence fills the space between them thick and unrelenting, where Josie forgets how to breathe, where Hope forgets how to talk. 

“Uh...” the tribrid begins, furrowing her eyebrows. A strangled noise sounds at the back of her throat, and Josie thinks that maybe she has her answer. 

“You don’t have to respond to that,” the siphoner reassures her, suddenly beyond humiliated. Of course Hope Mikaelson doesn’t like _her_ , of course the tribrid is taken. How could Josie have thought otherwise? 

To make things worse, Hope then frowns, a look the brunette can’t interpret crossing her face. She meets Josie’s eyes with startling clarity and when she says, “Pen’s single, if that’s what you mean.” 

_ Oh no.  _

Josie looks away, clearing her throat weakly. That’s definitely _not_ what she had meant. She pauses, glancing from the table to Hope then back. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and she forces them to still. 

“I can put in a good word, if you’d like?” Hope offers with a tilt of her head, very slowly, her voice suspiciously thick. Josie just continues to stare at her, wishing that the other girl could just somehow understand. Her gaze becomes searching, pleading even. 

Hope only continues to stand next to her, a stone statue of obliviousness. Josie sighs, ultimately disappointed as she turns away. The tribrid putting in a good word to Penelope is the _worst_ thing possible that Josie can think of. No. She wouldn’t like it. She’d _hate_ it. 

“No, thank you,” Josie mutters, sparing one more awkward glance and a weak wave of goodbye at Hope before joining her friends at her own table. She doesn’t think that she can stomach standing next to the other girl for one more second, not without throwing up her feelings all over the tribrid or digging herself into a deeper hole. 

“How’d it go?” Claire waggles her eyebrows excitedly when the siphoner reaches the table, her lips and chin stained red with blood. Josie dabs a napkin at her face tiredly, feeling like she’s cleaning up after a child. 

“Like crap,” she tells her. 

—

Josie stands in the middle of the school’s football field the next day, playing anxiously with the strap of the sports bra digging into her shoulder. It’s ten minutes into the first practice, and Hope still isn’t here. 

Until, she is. 

The siphoner spots her near the bleachers, sporting a light pair of joggers and a thin t-shirt. Her friend Penelope is by her side with her arms crossed, wearing something similar. 

“What is Mikaelson and her little villainous sidekick doing here?” Surprisingly enough, Lizzie catches sight of them just as quickly. Milton Greasley perks up next to her, looking over as he begins to babble on about comic books or something. Josie really isn’t listening, her body suddenly too aware of Hope Mikaelson. 

“Technically, villains can’t have sidekicks,” MG says, “the correct term would be a minion or lackey. Henchmen, for plural. Only heroes are capable of forming such loyal relationships with—“ 

“Blah, blah, blah,” Lizzie interrupts, rolling her eyes as she repeats herself, but with emphasis this time. “What are _they_ doing _here_?” 

“You literally begged me to ask Hope to join the team,” Josie deadpans, a bit exasperated. Whatever. She can be snide all she wants. It’s nearly a hundred degrees out here and her skin feels like it’s burning off of her body. Why are they practicing outside, again? 

“Oh,” Lizzie snarks, her tone almost betrayed as some of their friends laugh. “So you’re on a first-name basis with her now?” 

“Maybe I am!” 

“Well, then, we’re not sisters anymore!” 

“You can’t do that! We share a room!” 

“Both of you, shut up,” Marley bites out, pulling them apart with a hand on each twin. The sisters scowl at the witch, but silently agree to stop arguing as Hope and Penelope reluctantly approach the group of teenagers. 

Josie waves amiably at the two of them, forcing her other friends to do the same when her own sister refuses to even acknowledge them.

“I’m glad you came,” the siphoner tells Hope, once she’s able to sneak away from Lizzie. A small smile touches her lips as the tribrid nods, and the two share a sweet moment until Penelope clears her throat pointedly nearby. Josie blushes and Hope’s face loses all color as the pair look away.

“You, too,” Josie adds, meeting the wolf’s eyes a little ashamed and apologetically. Penelope only smirks in amusement. 

Shortly after everyone arrives, Lizzie designates herself as both the team captain and coach and starts barking out orders. 

“Alright, everyone!” She claps her hands together to get the group’s attention. Josie looks around to take every single person in, finding a reasonably-sized crowd with some of the most athletic students at the school. Wow. They might actually have a chance this season. “You’re running a mile. Four laps around the field. You have ten minutes. Go.” 

She makes a shooing motion with her hand, which causes a loud murmur of disgruntled groans to spread over the group. Josie’s throat bobs as she catches a glimpse of Penelope whispering something to Hope. 

“Shouldn’t we stretch first?” the auburn-haired girl speaks up, rubbing a hand at the back of her neck. Josie kind of agrees, since not everyone here has werewolf or vampire stamina. Though, she doesn’t voice her opinion, mostly due to how Lizzie instantly shoots daggers Hope’s way, crossing her arms heatedly. Hope mirrors her position. 

“Are you a tribrid or an old man?” the blonde asks. Josie visibly winces at the aggressiveness to her tone. She knows what’s coming before it happens. Hope always escalates the situation. And when Hope escalates the situations, Lizzie always takes it another step further. And when Lizzie takes it a step further, Hope takes it one hundred steps more. 

“Depends. Does your ass feel like getting thrown a hundred yards across the field?” Hope retorts easily enough, arching a single eyebrow as she takes a step forward. Lizzie does the same. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes falsely, her tone sickly-sweet. Hope noticeably bristles, her nose flaring. “I wasn’t aware that threatening the headmaster’s daughter was allowed.” 

“No, it’s probably not,” Hope smirks, and damn, if only she wasn’t so hot when threatening Josie’s sister. Her next words are a cold splash of water soaking Josie to the bone. “But I bet your dad would thank me for my service. It’s not like he hasn’t been _dying_ to get rid of you himself.” 

Lizzie opens her mouth and closes it, spluttering as the field falls near silent. The barb at the ever-absent father in the blonde’s life is much too shocking for her. A pout pulls at Josie’s own lips. How could Hope say that? And more, how could she say that in front of all these people like this? 

“Speaking from experience?” Lizzie manages, at last. Her cheeks are uncharacteristically red, the tips of her ears vibrant. The rest of her face remains starkly pale, as if she’s just seen a ghost. Josie’s stomach knots with dread. “Tell me, Mikaelson, did your father thank you when you _killed_ him?” 

A single glimmer of emotion—surprise? regret? misery?—flashes in Hope’s eyes before it disappears altogether. Her jaw sets dangerously, her eyes narrow like the ends of knives. Just when Josie thinks she’s about to explode, she steps back and shakes her head almost sadly, that same rueful smirk on her face. 

Lizzie smiles with satisfaction at her reaction, sending everyone off to do their laps. The group disperses slowly, as if fearing that the tribrid or the blonde siphoner might snap if they move too quickly. 

Josie watches it all, confused beyond shock. Where had everything gone wrong? And maybe, most importantly, why hasn’t Hope left yet? She’s made it abundantly clear that she’s only here for Josie— _Josie_ , who hadn’t defended the other girl during the argument, who hadn’t stood up for her in any way, who had said all of four words to Hope since she got here. 

The siphoner sighs, turning to her sister with resignation, only to find Lizzie looking at her expectantly. “What?” she asks.

“You have eight minutes,” the blonde tells her, tapping the nonexistent watch on her wrist. 

“You’re not serious.” Josie hasn’t exercised on purpose since the mandatory mile her physical education teacher made her run when she was fourteen. 

Lizzie gives her sister a look that tells her that she _is_ , in fact, serious. Josie sighs, pulling down her shorts from where they’ve rode up high on her thighs. She cringes, already knowing that she’ll be sore later. Long endurance running really isn’t her thing. 

She jumps into stride with Marley as the girl passes her on the track, who instantly grins at Josie’s appearance. 

“What lap are you on?” she implores quietly, secretly checking over to where Lizzie stands with her hands on her hips, surveying the field with suspicious eyes. 

“Second,” Marley breathes, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. A similar line of sweat drips down Josie’s own neck, collecting at the valley of her collarbone. God, it’s so hot outside. 

“Great.” The siphoner brightens, smirking slightly. “Me, too.” 

When they finish their laps, many several minutes before their allotted time, the group splits on its own and gathers on separate sides of the field. Josie absentmindedly wonders how that makes sense, but before she can wonder for too long, Lizzie assigns the witches a series of stretches to complete. 

A couple of minutes later—but only after seeing that MG is distracting the blonde—Josie silently walks over to Hope’s side of the field. Up until this moment, she had been trying fruitlessly to avoid staring at the other girl. Yet, the tribrid’s impeccable running form and toned arms had proved difficult for Josie’s eyes to travel away from. 

Especially when Hope had offhandedly grabbed the hem of her shirt after her fourth lap, lifting it up to her face to wipe away the sweat there. The action had revealed perfect abs and a short glimpse of the sports bra Hope was wearing. Josie simply couldn’t look away. Fortunately—or maybe, unfortunately—enough, the show had been over far too soon. 

That’s how Josie finds herself now, making her way over to the tribrid with dark eyes and wet lips. 

“Hey,” she greets the girl and her friend with a blinding smile, just as Hope is sipping on her water bottle. Josie nods kindly to Penelope as Hope sets down the bottle and runs a tongue along her bottom lip, the siphoner’s eyes dipping down to watch the motion. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Josie blinks, dragging her gaze back up hesitantly to meet Hope’s own. She stumbles over her words, always picking up after Lizzie but never getting used to it at the same time. “I’m sure Lizzie didn’t mean it. It just came out wrong.” 

“Yeah?” Hope smiles a bit, maybe to let Josie know that she’s not as angry as the siphoner thinks. Josie devours the small inch of mercy as quickly as she can, nodding happily. Her smile slips off her face a second later.

“Does she know you’re here making excuses for her, then?” 

Hmm. Maybe Hope _is_ still angry. 

Josie leans away, a little surprised at the tone of the girl’s voice. Hope has certainly never talked to her this way, usually ignoring Josie during her quarrels with Lizzie. Penelope even seems shocked as well, her eyebrows raising in that vaguely entertained look they always tend to take on. 

The siphoner gives Hope a moment to take the words back and maybe apologize—since it’s not like Lizzie was entirely at fault for what transpired—but she doesn’t. She only stares at Josie blankly, her lips a straight line. Josie takes that moment to examine the tribrid carefully—to really, _really_ look at her.

Hope’s skin is flushed from the warm weather. The collar of her shirt is nearly soaked through with sweat, but it’s not gross or unappealing in the way Josie would normally find it to be. It’s still something the brunette thinks twice about, considering werewolves usually take longer to break a sweat during exercise and Penelope Park herself is barely sweating. 

She forgets about those little facts easily enough, her eyes lingering on the dampness of Hope’s collar without her permission. It’s quite attractive really. It allows the other girl’s collarbone to protrude from her shirt prominently, and Josie can’t stop herself from noticing. She should stop, though. She should be _pissed_ at the other girl, certainly not _this_...

“Oh my _god_ , Josie!” Lizzie yells from the other wide of the field. “Can you stop being so damn horny for _one_ second?! I need you to teach these idiots what a basic arm stretch looks like!” 

Josie flushes at being so obvious that she was caught staring by someone that’s literally a couple of hundred feet away, not even bothering to say goodbye to the tribrid as she tears her gaze away from Hope’s collarbone and walks away. 

She then runs a hand through her hair, forgetting that it’s in a ponytail. Her nails dig into her hair tie and remove it from the brown locks, allowing her hair to fall around her shoulders messily. 

Josie desperately fights the impulse to facepalm in embarrassment as she gets further and further away from the object of her humiliation. 

It doesn’t work. 


End file.
